Chapter 6 The Fire You Try to Hide

The next day started with rain.

Gray streaks fell hard against the glass walls of Voss Tower, drenching the skyline and dulling the city's usual energy. Noah arrived soaked despite his umbrella, his coat clinging to him and his curls damp from the wind.

He was ten minutes early-again. Habit or hope, he couldn't decide anymore.

Ethan was already there, of course. His suit was charcoal, his shirt crisp, and his focus absolute. But Noah could tell-something about his stillness was too deliberate. Like he was trying too hard to be fine.

"Morning," Noah said, trying to keep it light.

Ethan didn't look up. "You're wet."

"It's raining."

"Then dress smarter."

Noah smirked. "I'll tell that to the sky."

Ethan's pen paused. "Schedule a call with the Tokyo team. I want a full breakdown on the API conflict by close of business."

"Already did. It's on your calendar for 4:30."

A beat. Then: "Good."

Silence settled between them again, but not the easy kind. It was stiff. Careful.

The night before still hung in the air-Noah's words, Ethan's retreat, the closeness they both almost let happen.

Noah didn't regret saying what he did. But he regretted the way Ethan had looked at him-like he was a risk, a crack in the glass.

Still, the day marched on. Meetings. Briefings. A surprise compliance audit that had everyone scrambling. By noon, the storm outside had worsened, thunder rolling in low waves across the city.

That's when it happened.

Ethan's private line rang.

He picked it up on the first ring. "Voss."

A pause.

Noah looked up at the change in his tone.

"What are you doing here?" Ethan asked.

Another pause.

"I said, what are you-fine. I'll come down."

He hung up and stood abruptly, grabbing his coat.

"Problem?" Noah asked.

Ethan didn't answer, just strode toward the elevator like it had insulted him.

Curiosity burned in Noah's chest. He waited ten seconds. Then twenty.

Then followed.

He stayed back, moving quietly down the stairwell and emerging a floor below the lobby. From behind the corner of a column, he saw Ethan standing at the front desk-face tight, shoulders squared.

Across from him stood a man.

Mid-thirties, tall, lean. Blond hair, blue eyes. Expensive coat. And an expression somewhere between regret and arrogance.

Noah knew, before he even heard the name.

"Mason," Ethan said, voice low and hard. "This is not your company anymore. You don't get to show up unannounced."

Mason held his hands up. "Relax. I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm in town for forty-eight hours. I thought I'd say hello."

"Hello," Ethan said flatly. "Now leave."

"Ethan-"

"No. You don't get to call me that, not here. You gave up your right to that when you tried to sell me out."

Mason winced. "You know that was complicated."

"It wasn't. It was betrayal. End of story."

Noah stepped back, heart racing. So this is the man who broke him.

Mason sighed. "I just wanted to talk."

"There's nothing left to say."

Mason's eyes drifted over Ethan's shoulder-and landed on Noah.

And just like that, a smirk appeared.

"Ah. The assistant."

Ethan tensed. "Don't."

"I see. So this is why your emails got colder."

Ethan stepped forward. "Get out."

"Fine," Mason said, raising both hands again. "But he deserves to know what you're capable of, Ethan. Eventually, they all find out."

And with that, he walked out into the rain.

Noah didn't move as Ethan stood frozen in place for another ten seconds. Then he turned and walked straight back toward the elevator-face unreadable, hands clenched.

Noah beat him back upstairs and pretended to be typing furiously when the elevator doors opened.

Ethan walked past him without a word and closed his office door.

Noah stared at it for a long moment. Then stood and knocked gently.

"What?" came the response-sharper than intended.

He opened the door anyway. "He's not worth it."

Ethan looked up. "You followed me."

"I did."

"You heard everything."

"Most of it."

Ethan exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers to his temples. "He always shows up when things are going well. Like some kind of... curse."

Noah walked in, calm, steady. "He's trying to rattle you."

"He did."

"Then don't let him keep doing it."

Ethan laughed bitterly. "You think it's that easy?"

"No," Noah said. "I think it's that important."

Silence stretched between them.

"I loved him," Ethan said finally. "I was going to marry him. We had plans-real ones. And then he tried to sell a controlling share of this company to a firm that wanted to gut everything we built."

Noah's voice was quiet. "Why?"

"Money. Power. Revenge. Take your pick." Ethan stared at the rain. "He always needed more."

"And you didn't?"

Ethan looked at him. "I needed us. He wanted control."

Noah stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "You ever miss him?"

Ethan hesitated. "I miss the version of him that existed in my head. But I know better now."

"Good," Noah said. "Because you don't need anyone who sees you as a transaction."

Ethan let out a slow breath. "You always say the right thing, don't you?"

"I say what I feel," Noah replied. "You just haven't run yet."

Ethan's eyes met his.

This time, there was no retreat. No joke. Just a quiet, electric pause.

Then Ethan stood, slowly, and walked around the desk. He stopped just in front of Noah, their bodies almost touching.

"What if I don't want to run?"

Noah's heart pounded. "Then don't."

Ethan reached up-tentative, uncharacteristically so-and brushed a damp curl from Noah's forehead.

"I'm not good at this," he said.

"Good," Noah whispered. "I'm tired of perfect."

Their lips met.

It wasn't fireworks. It wasn't slow motion.

It was real. Warm. Hesitant at first, then certain.

Ethan kissed like a man who hadn't let himself want in years. And Noah kissed back like someone who had waited just long enough.

When they finally pulled apart, Ethan's forehead rested against Noah's.

"This is dangerous," he said.

"I know," Noah replied. "But it's also honest."

Ethan smiled faintly. "You're trouble, Reyes."

"And you like it."

"Terrifyingly so."

They stayed there for another beat-together, quiet, suspended between what was and what might come next.

And outside, the rain finally began to let up.